Time Travel and Sociopaths: What Could Go Wrong?
by cluingforlooks
Summary: Sherlock and John encounter the TARDIS in their sitting room. Adventure, humour, and fluff ensue. Mostly fluff though.
1. In The Near Future

The darkness was absolute. There was no moon in the sky, not a streetlight nor an airplane to pierce the pitch-black night. A single star shone through the clouds as the man dashed through the empty field, as if the devil himself was at his heels. And, perhaps, he was.

Finally, an artificial light blinked through the trees, like that of a single bulb, or a flashlight. The man, incredibly, put on a burst of speed, running even faster than he had before, to reach the blue box sitting in the exact centre of the woods. When the man at last reached the box, he snapped his fingers, and the doors flew open, the smell of Earl Grey tea emanating from the toasty warm interior into the frosty woods. He slammed the door just in time. The tall man pulled his knit jumper tighter around him, pulling off his snow-spotted scarf. "Mrs. Hudson!" he shouted. "Have you made my tea yet?"

"I'm not your housekeeper, Sherlock," a mechanical voice answered from inside the centre console. Soon after, however, a steaming cup of black tea and two sugar cubes popped out from a slot just at eye level. Sherlock reached up to grab it, draining it without even adding the sugar. He threw both cubes in his mouth and sucked on them. "What in the Medusa Cascade was THAT?" said a slightly muffled voice from the direction of the library.

"Just a hellhound, nothing we haven't seen before," Sherlock yelled back.

"It might be nothing to you, but here _I _am, handcuffed to an armchair, and you could be dead. AGAIN."

"Yes, John, I know. But dying is boring."

"Sherlo- forget this. Could you just bloody uncuff me?"

"Here, catch." Sherlock threw his sonic screwdriver down the trapdoor to the library. Amazingly, John caught it.

As John climbed up the ladder to the control room, rubbing his sore wrist, a metal arm coming from the centre of the TARDIS handed him a mug of green tea.

"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson," said John.

"Just this once, dear," she replied lovingly.


	2. Three Years Previously

The TARDIS materialised in the middle of London, near a cemetery, where two men were mourning the loss of their dear friend, Mrs. Hudson. While one was sitting on the ground, curled up into a ball reminiscent of a hedgehog, the other stood, staring straight ahead, trying desperately not to cry. The standing man tried to comfort his friend, but Sherlock was beyond all consolation. Watching from a distance, Rose contemplated what to do. She was an old woman now, even though only 10 years had passed in the time she was travelling the universe. Since her Doctor had passed away just last month, she was distraught and had done nothing but sit in the TARDIS and weep. She had no need of it now…


	3. Two Months Later

John walked into the kitchen, pulling his jumper over his head. "Morning," Sherlock called out. "Don't touch the things in the microwave!" John rubbed his eyes and sighed.

"What is it this time?" he asked, not really wanting to know.

"Water for my tea; the kettle's broken." John sighed again.

"How on earth do you break a kettle‽" There was no response.

Sherlock came into the kitchen to get his tea a few minutes later. He and John sat chatting for a while. Suddenly, they heard a strange noise. "What the bloo-" John was cut off by the TARDIS landing in the centre of 221B.

After recovering from the shock, Sherlock cautiously approached the large, blue box in the middle of the sitting room. John knocked sharply on the door, and it swung open. There was a body lying on the floor. John immediately sprang to action, blatantly ignoring the fact that THERE WAS A BLUE BOX IN THE SITTING ROOM AND IT WAS BIGGER ON THE INSIDE! "I'd say about 85, natural causes. Must've only died a few minutes ago…" He trailed off when he realised that THERE WAS A BLUE BOX IN THE SITTING ROOM AND IT WAS BIGGER ON THE INSIDE! He proceeded to faint.


	4. In The Subsequent Hour

When John came to, he was lying in bed, with Sherlock pacing the room, muttering to himself about boxes, hedgehogs, and the nature of the universe. Noticing that John was awake, he said, "Oh, good, you're awake. Correct me if I'm wrong, but we may have an impossibility in the sitting room. Care to join me?"

"An impossibility?" John asked, more than a little bit dazed. Sherlock paused a bit, as if he couldn't believe that his companion (for he already pictured the adventures that they would have) could be so incredibly ignorant.

"Yes… the blue box," He carefully enunciated each syllable, as if talking to a very young child.

"No. No, that was a dream. There is not a blue box in our living room. I dreamt it. It is impossible; therefore it does not exist." John started to become frantic, but Sherlock slapped him across the face before he could cross the line into complete hysteria.

"Of course you dreamt it." he replied, his voice dripping sarcasm. "Would you like some tea?"

"I'd love some, thanks." John utterly failed to pick up on the insincerity in Sherlock's tone. "I can get it myself, though."

"No, no, you stay here; I'll get it." It was Sherlock's turn to become a bit frantic.

"I was a soldier. I can get my own bloody tea."

"I, er, I wouldn't recommend it…" Sherlock tried to stop his friend from bursting out into the hall, but it was too late. John flung open the door and stopped, stock-still, when he saw the TARDIS in his living room. In his dazed state, he allowed Sherlock to spin him around and march him back to bed.

A few minutes later, he came back with steaming hot tea and a laptop computer. After allowing John to calm down and drink his tea, Sherlock clicked on a browser and brought up a website. "You see this?" he asked rhetorically. "Dozens of people have seen this box, hundreds maybe. The woman we saw- that woman travels around in the box with a man- her husband maybe, her boyfriend."

"But that woman is dead- Sherlock, is there a CORPSE in the parlour‽"

"Not per se…"

As Sherlock told the story of what had happened, John rolled his eyes and struggled to even listen to what seemed, to him, a fairy tale.


	5. And Now, A Bit Of Backstory

In his time with Sherlock, although he had seen so many terrible and wonderful things, John had learnt to rely on facts and logic only. His mind was closed to that which was fantastical.

In his time with John, Sherlock's heart had softened. He had learnt to appreciate beauty in everyday things, and to believe even that which he did not understand, while John's capacity to love, his innermost heart, had hardened.

Sherlock, whilst John was unconscious, had explored the mysterious blue box, and had discovered a video on a television screen on the center console. A message, of sorts, from this machine's previous owner, explaining how to use the TARDIS (as he had discovered it was called) and its nature.

The old Sherlock, or the new John, wouldn't have believed a word.

But, hey, it couldn't hurt to try.

**A/N: Sorry this chapter was so short. I'm trying in vain to write four stories at once, while juggling exams and such. More is coming, I promise!**


	6. Just After Chapter Four

"Are you seriously trying to tell me that this blue box is a TIME MACHINE? Do we have to go see Molly again?" John had a look of exasperated disbelief on his face, and his arms were firmly crossed across his jumper.

"John, calm down. I'm not going to make you do anything. Just drink your tea. Everything will be okay."

John did as he was told, but soon regretted it. "This... this is why I can't trust you." For the second time that day, he collapsed, unconscious.

* * *

><p>Sherlock had to work quickly to choose the correct destination. Shakespeare? Overdone. The future? Bad idea. Finally, he decided. "John. John. JAWN WAKE UP!"<p>

"Hm? What? I'm awake!" John bolted up and analyzed his new surroundings. This room, with a tall, futuristic control panel in the center looked vaguely familiar. Was he, once again, inside that mysterious blue box. "Sherlock, where are we?"

"This is the TARDIS. And I can prove my story to you. Just peek out the window."

John stared at him, clearly unamused.

"Oh, go on, humour me."

John got up, stretched, and, cautiously, walked towards the front of the room.

_"Afghanistan or Iraq?"_

John squinted. He blinked rapidly. He scratched his ear, as if he believed his ears weren't properly working.

_"Sorry?"_

John glanced towards Sherlock, who was smiling smugly at him.

_"Which one was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?"_

"I told you it was a time machine."

"Is this... how did you learn how to do that?"

_"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know..."_

"That woman left a video. She travelled around in the TARDIS with a bloke called The Doctor."

"A doctor, eh? Seems like I might fit in just fine."

Sherlock blushed.


	7. The Next Day

John lay in bed with his eyes tightly closed. _That was all a dream. When I open my eyes, I'll be safe in 221B, and there will be no time machines or anything else impossible. _

He forced his eyes open, shut them again, opened them again, and sighed. Whether it was a happy sigh, he wasn't sure.

"Come out the door and take a right turn, then a left!" Sherlock's voice shone loud and clear, something John could recognise even in these unfamiliar surroundings.

Following the shouted instructions, John found himself in a kitchen almost identical to that in Baker Street. On the table sat a steaming teapot and the scent of Earl Grey tea was in the air. The oven dinged and Sherlock pulled out a tray of muffins. "Hungry?" he asked.

"Did you do all this?"

"Reprogrammable rooms. Surprisingly easy once you get the hang of it."

"And _you _know how to _bake_?"

"Many unexpected skills required in the field of criminal investigation…"

John didn't buy it.

"Okay, I learnt it on YouTube."

"Well, these are delicious." John said through a large mouthful of pastry.

"I know, I bought them at a shop."

Sometimes it was all John could do to keep from slapping that man across the face. Other times, however...

Sherlock poured himself a cup of tea and sat down at the table next to John. "I've been fiddling with the controls, and I think I've figured out how to give the TARDIS a voice interface, so we won't have to perfectly understand how she works."

"She?"

"She, he, it, whatever. What does it matter?"

The two sat in silence, drinking their tea, until they heard something they had thought they would never hear again.


	8. Clever titles are hard

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long. I've had exams and such. Also, I find it difficult to write stories whilst fangirling uncontrollably over the fluff that I myself am writing. Thanks for sticking with me!**

"Boys? Would you mind popping upstairs for a bit? I can help you with the dishes if you need!"

John was stunned; Sherlock merely leaned back in his chair and looked pleased with himself.

"But she's _dead! _How could you..." John stuttered to a halt.

Sherlock gave him The Face.

John looked back at him, clearly more than a little annoyed.

This continued for several long moments, or it might have been half an hour, or possibly several sunlit days.

"I took a sample of her voice, fed it into the console. It wasn't even difficult."

The two glanced back at each other, and, with a moment of mutual understanding, dashed up the stairs to the control room.


	9. Mrs Hudson

**A/N: So many of you reviewed asking about this, so I felt like I should clarify:**

**This story is set in Pete's World, the alternate universe that Rose and TenTwo live in. It was confirmed by RTD that they grew their own TARDIS, and they were both able to grow old and die. **

**I didn't kill the Doctor. **

**Sherlock and John are never going to meet the Doctor. **

**Sorry.**

"Mrs. Hudson?" John asked tentatively, feeling rather foolish talking to a piece of machinery.

"You do know it's not really her," Sherlock said to him in an undertone. "It's just her voice; I can't bring her back."

"Do you honestly think that I bloody care, Sherlock? We haven't seen her for _two years!_ I just want _something_, okay? _Something_." Tears welled up in his eyes. "In the last two days, I've seen the impossible. I am currently inside of an impossible machine. Is is _so bad _for me to want this? Can't I just have one more miracle?" His tears deteriorated into sobs, then into a near-hysteria. One arm around his shoulders, steadying him, Sherlock lead him up half a flight of stairs to the Baker Street sitting room, where a pot of steaming Earl Grey tea sat on the table.

Gradually, John got his breath back, and was able to sit and drink the tea.

_Maybe a bit too much to start with. _Sherlock smiled to himself.


	10. The First Adventure (part one)

**A/N: This chapter was inspired by the wonderful Jocular. **

"So," Sherlock said, breaking a minutes-long silence, "where do you want to go now?" A mischievous smile graced his sharp face.

"I'm feeling a bit peckish, actually," John said. He leaned against the soft back of his chair.

Scanning his mind palace, Sherlock brought up a mental list of all the best cafés in London. Deciding on one just a bit past Baker Street, he gestured over his shoulder. John at his heels, he jogged to the control panel. John coughed, in a blatantly false way, and Sherlock directed his attention towards him. He turned his head away from a screen on which he was typing the address of the café. "Yes?" he replied, sounding a bit confused.

"This is just down the street," John said. "We could walk..." He trailed off, gesturing behind him to the TARDIS doors.

"What? Oh, of course." Sherlock was so caught up in the complex machinery and fascinating science of the TARDIS that he hadn't realized how close it was.

Pulling on his coat, Sherlock burst out of the deep-blue doors. A chill November wind swept through the streets. Rain began to fall, splattering against taxis and houses, freezing on impact. John shivered. Without a moment of thought, Sherlock tore off his coat and draped it around his friend's shoulders. John sniffed the collar of the coat. It smelt of copper and dust and lilacs. Presently, they reached the café.

The light tinkling of a bell rang out as John pushed open the door. A scent of coffee, baked goods, and vanilla wafted out the doors, along with the hum of a dozen or so people chatting offhandedly to each other.

A young lady standing at the door greeted them, showing them towards a circular table-for-two tucked snugly in the back of the shop, next to a blazing fireplace. The two sat across from each other at the table. The block-long walk from 221B had chilled them to the bone, Sherlock especially.

"Oh. Um. Would you like your coat back?"


End file.
